


Sorry Daddy, I've Been Bad

by coconutcat



Series: SladeJason Week 2018 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Jason, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Father Jason Todd, Flashpoint - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Rape, doin the dirty in a church, noncon, pirate slade wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcat/pseuds/coconutcat
Summary: “To see if you’ve changed your mind yet. And please, call me Slade. All my lovers do.”Jason grits his teeth before answering, “I am not your lover.”“Not yet.” Deathstroke immediately replies, the grin on his face too smug for Jason’s liking.





	Sorry Daddy, I've Been Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This fic takes place during Flashpoint where Jason is a priest, and Slade is a pirate who slept with teenager Jenny Blitz. And if you've seen that panel in his Flashpoint comic, you know that he's "flirty", hence why his personality might seem a little strange here :^)

Jason’s taking a breather on the pews across from the altar. It had been long day of him feeding the homeless or people coming in and begging for forgiveness.

He’s about to get up and start cleaning up when the doors suddenly open, and a man strolls in.

Jason has to bite back a sigh; it’s the infamous Slade Wilson, captain of the Ravager, sailor of the Seven Seas., and he heads the Deathstroke’s Pirate crew.

He’s a murderer and just last week, he had told, or “confessed”, that he had slept with Jenny Blitz, a bright-eyed, purple haired teenage girl who was as old as his daughter, Rose.

Quite frankly, he’s scum. And he’s taken an interest in Jason for some reason.

“Hello Father Todd,” he smirks as he saunters up to Jason, looming over him, his presence and height just as overwhelming as his personality.

“Hello, Deathstroke. What brings you back to Gotham?” Jason somehow already knows the answer before he even answers.

“To see if you’ve changed your mind yet. And please, call me Slade. All my lovers do.”

Jason grits his teeth before answering, “I am _not_ your lover.”

“Not yet.” Deathstroke immediately replies, the grin on his face too smug for Jason’s liking.

If Jason could turn him away, he would, but he has his responsibilities to listen to each and every person who comes to him.

He musters up all the patience he can, and with a heavy sigh, asks Deathstroke whether or not he would like to step into the confessional booth.

Honestly, there’s no point in asking what Deathstroke wants; whatever he wants, he usually gets, or takes.

“What I want, Father Todd,” as he pushes Jason down onto the pews, “is for you to use that beautiful mouth of yours for something else. He grips the back of Jason’s hair and leans forward suggestively, his pelvis close to Jason’s face. Jason tries to twist away, but Deathstroke’s grip is too strong.

“Why should I listen, or even _do_ anything you want?” Jason spits out.

“You know,” he diverts, “I remember this church looking more worn down a year ago. You’ve really turned things around.”

There’s a sense of dread pooling at Jason’s gut when Deathstroke continues speaking. “It would be an awful shame if something were to happen to it.”

So that’s what he was getting at.

“You really are scum.” Jason’s lost his patience by now, and he’s not in the mood to be the understanding, lend people an ear persona he usually is.

“I’m a pirate, handsome. We’re all scum.” Deathstroke grins. “Now, you’re gonna be good and lay down, _Father Todd_ , unless you _want_ something to happen to this church.”

Jason stiffens before he grudgingly lies down and waits for Deathstroke to do whatever the fuck he’s about to do.

The moment Deathstroke is finished taking off his pants, he sidles up to Jason’s face; he’s still flaccid, but he’s pulling Jason’s face to his slit.

Jason’s breath catches. He’s….an omega?

The fact that Deathstroke is an omega, with his aggressive personality, penchant for destroying things, and cradle robbing comes as a surprise.

Though he can’t stay shocked forever because Deathstroke is pressing insistently at Jason’s face, and Jason can smell the musky scent he’s giving off.

“Open up.” Deathstroke demands, and Jason is pressing his mouth to his entrance, tentatively licking the length of his cunt.

He can hear a hitch in his breath before Deathstroke is huffing. “You can do better than that, Father.”

Jason spears his tongue into Deathstroke’s cunt, and he can hear a low groan above him.

“That’s it, Father,” he rocks his hips against Jason’s face. “You’re just as good as I thought you were,” and he starts to grind down against Jason, getting Jason’s tongue deeper into him.

Jason can hardly breathe; his head’s spinning with the stink of pheromones along with the sharp somewhat metallic taste of him, and there’s a tiny, territorial part of in the back of his head that’s telling him to be more possessive and aggressive, but Jason had pushed that alpha side of his way, way back when he became a priest, so he can’t do anything but sit there and take it as Deathstroke uses his mouth.

Deathstroke is grinding down on him faster, and Jason swears he can feel the slight contractions that signal he’s about to come.

With a final shove downwards, Deathstroke comes, gushing wet onto Jason’s face, and Jason’s trying to pull back, but Deathstroke isn’t letting go just yet, forcing Jason to clean in and around his cunt.

Finally letting him pull back, Jason takes a huge gasp of air and his face is still wet from Deathstroke’s juice and his own tears.

“Satisfied yet?” Jason huffs, making to stand back up.

“Not just yet, _Jason_.” Deathstroke referring to him by his name was a first, and Jason would ponder more about why he decided to do that if Deathstroke hadn’t tugged him up and forced him down on his back in front of the altar.

He’s stripping Jason of his robes and Jason’s panicking; he’s reminded of the countless times when he was younger and on the streets, sleeping with others just to try and survive or as an exchange for something. He could deal with this; he had before.

He had threatened to destroy the church.

And this was all happening in front of the crucifix fixed above the altar.

Jason resigns to his fate as Deathstroke readies himself and prepares to slide down on Jason’s cock.

Jason has to bite back a moan; Deathstroke’s still warm and wet from earlier, and he’s ashamed to admit that he feels good. Deathstroke lets out low moan that sends shivers up Jason’s spine.

His voice betrays him as he lets out a yelp when Deathstroke starts moving, and the church is filled with wet squelching noises as he’s rocking down onto Jason.

Jason’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he has to turn his head away from the crucifix; he can feel the judgment just pouring from it.

However, Deathstroke grabs his chin, and forces his face back towards the crucifix. Jason lets out a small gasp, and immediately screws his eyes close.

“Hmm, does that turn you on, Father Todd? Being ridden on front of the crucifix?” Deathstroke pants out, his single eye twinkling and his smile wicked.

“Fu-ahhh!” Jason cries out as Deathstroke rolls his hips.

“Now, now, I thought priests weren’t supposed to curse,” he says amicably, and speeds up the pace he’s fucking himself onto Jason.

“And,” he moves to stretch Jason’s arms wide, pinning them down by the wrists. “I noticed that you still haven’t called me Slade yet.” he grins, and starts to move faster, letting out a moan when he hits the right spot.

“Never-!” Jason snarls, and Deathstroke only grins infuriatingly, and responds, “You may be the Father, but you can call me daddy.”

“If you’d like,” he adds.

Jason says nothing, a grimace forming on his face, almost pouting really. There’s shame coursing throughout Jason, but he can’t do anything except go with Deathstroke’s flow.

Sla- _Deathstroke_ clenches down hard and Jason whimpers as he feels Deathstroke’s muscles fluttering, and his knot is starting to catch. His mind is a bit fuzzy, and the small alpha part of him is pushing him to seek is release, so he starts minutely thrusting up when Deathstroke shoves himself down on Jason’s cock.

He clenches again, pushing Jason over the edge as he comes inside Deathstroke, and Deathstroke’s back is arching as he comes on Jason’s dick and spurting semen onto Jason’s stomach.

The knot’s locked into him and the two are trembling, panting loudly, and groaning when Deathstroke shifts a bit.

Once the knot comes down, Deathstroke quickly pulls himself up, searching around for his clothes.

Jason’s still lying flat on the ground, his eyes closed and mind in conflict over the feelings of pleasure and disgust.

There’s a shadow looming over him, and Jason’s eyes snap open when a hand roughly grabs his chin, forcing Jason to stare up into Deathstroke’s eyes.

“Now then, what’s my name?” he asks roughly, with none of the playfulness before.

Jason swallows and grits.

“Slade.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you caught that reference to Justice League: Of Gods and Monsters, then, YAY!


End file.
